Hate to shatter everyone’s hopes and dreams, but the competition for best graduation gift ever given is finished. Game over. You can go home now. Michelle won. Friday night after my folks took us out to eat, we got home and Michelle told me that Gerald, an elderly man in our neighborhood, wanted to congratulate me on finishing my master’s. So we headed over there, and we talked for awhile about the latest news, and I was thinking, “Wait, you invited us over to chat about Osama bin Laden?” When we got up to leave he handed me an envelope. I opened it and was confused because I thought it was empty, but then I saw that there was a slip of paper inside with four lines of poetry on it. And now I was thinking, “An 80-year-old is writing me poetry?” FINALLY I caught on that Michelle had master-minded an elaborate treasure hunt with clues slipped into envelopes. So we proceeded to traipse around the neighborhood, walking into people’s backyards, poking around their shrubs, and generally putt...

Got a letter in the mail the other day, telling me that this fall I’ll be trading in my blue T-shirts for red ones. University of Utah here I come! In truth, I don’t know whether to be thrilled or wary about the whole thing. For all I know, being accepted into the American Studies masters program at the U may be akin to getting into those Who’s Who books—anyone who forks over the cash gets in. But U.S. News lists Utah ’s graduate school as “more selective” (though this is probably skewed by the medical program). They do have a renowned creative writing program, as well as two specialties that sound appealing, if not practical: Western American studies and environmental humanities. If I were to be completely foolish, I’d just go the environmental route, spend a few deliriously happy years reading Thoreau and Edward Abbey and Annie Dillard, and come away with a diploma worth no more than the paper its printed on. Not that an American studies MA is worth much more; believe me,...